


Note from the Inquisitorial Archives #11

by professorplum221



Series: Notes from the Inquisitorial Archives [11]
Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Bisexuality, F/M, Light BDSM, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29549016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorplum221/pseuds/professorplum221
Summary: A document establishing some background to the somewhat unconventional relationship between Commissar Cain and Inquisitor Vail, as already exemplified in previous excerpts.
Relationships: Ciaphas Cain/Amberley Vail
Series: Notes from the Inquisitorial Archives [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043088
Kudos: 3





	Note from the Inquisitorial Archives #11

**Author's Note:**

> While everything in this series is pretty loosely connected and mostly stand-alone, this one probably benefits from having read the 4th one beforehand, so maybe do that first if you haven't already! Enjoy.

_Archival note: The following document appears to establish some background to the somewhat unconventional relationship between Commissar Cain and Inquisitor Vail, as already exemplified in previous excerpts. While it is characteristically lacking in specific context, the events appear to have taken place fairly early in said relationship—quite possibly after the 597th Valhallan's brief and ill-fated expedition to Simia Orichalcae. Readers with the appropriate security clearance will be able to find the details of that incident elsewhere in the archive._

_\- Underscribe P. Plumb, 137.M42_

It's strange to think that Amberley and I might not have ended up having what turned out to be a very important conversation until much later, had I not contrived to run into her outside of Colonel Kasteen's office that evening. She had been conducting a series of routine interviews with everyone who was at all involved in the incident, and at that point relatively early in our acquaintance, I wasn't yet confident that she would take the initiative to find me afterward if I didn't make it easy for her. So I kept an eye on the whole process and made sure that I just happened to be passing by in the hall as she was wrapping things up—and it was the specifics of that artificial coincidence that led to the memorable night that followed.

"Ah, Commissar," Amberley greeted me as I approached her and Kasteen with my best feigned expression of mild surprise at their presence. "Just the man I wanted to see."

Not typically words one would be happy to hear, coming from an inquisitor, but in this case I was reasonably sure that they meant she had the same thing in mind as I did.

"There are still a few details I'd like to clear up with you, if you don't mind," she continued. "If you're on your way out as well, perhaps you could see me to the door?"

"It would be my pleasure, Inquisitor," I replied before turning my head to face Kasteen. "Unless there's anything I'm still needed for here?"

"No, go ahead," said the colonel. "I'll be calling it a day soon myself. Have a good night, Ciaphas. Inquisitor."

"Goodnight, Regina."

She nodded to the pair of us before disappearing back into her office, conveniently leaving the halls free of any witnesses who might notice that I appeared to be going above and beyond the call of duty in seeing Amberley to the door, instead accompanying her all the way through a long series of doors that eventually led to her room in a nearby hotel.

It wasn't until we arrived there that she commented, "You're on first-name terms with Colonel Kasteen?"

"I suppose so," I said. "I work fairly closely with her and Major Broklaw. They're the closest things I have to friends in the regiment."

"Regina." She stated the name in a drawn-out, experimental tone before flouncing onto the bed. "She's very pretty."

"Not as pretty as you," I responded reflexively while in the process of hanging up my coat.

Amberley rolled her eyes. "That was just an observation, not a prompt. She _is_ very pretty, and you know it. I was only wondering whether there might be something going on between the two of you."

"What? Of course not!" I responded, affronted, and took a seat next to her on the bed. "Regina and I are friends—colleagues—I would never . . ."

Rather than looking nearly as reassured as I had expected, Amberley's expression had changed into one of apparent befuddlement. "Ciaphas," she said with a furrowed brow, "you don't think I'd _mind_ , do you?"

Now it was my turn to be somewhat taken aback. "Well—yes, I had sort of assumed you might."

I'll be the first to admit that I hadn't had much experience with long-term relationships before Amberley, but I'd had enough women get upset with me over perceived infidelity back in my wilder younger years to have picked up on the fact that there tended to be an assumption of monogamy with these sorts of things. Not that it had ever actually stopped me back then, considering how few of those potentially peeved paramours I was ever likely to see again after a short while anyway. Typically, I had been shielded from any lasting consequences by the frequent movement of the regiment to which I was attached, which had usually suited me just fine. But something about Amberley was different, and while we had never actually directly discussed the terms of our relationship before parting ways on Gravalax, I had gotten the notion in mind to avoid doing anything that would risk causing friction upon our highly anticipated reunion. (And as much as I might like to claim that I was entirely motivated by respect for her, I'm sure her position as an inquisitor—and the ease with which she could therefore have me assassinated if it so much as struck her fancy—also played a role.)

"Because I can assure you I most certainly _don't_ mind," she explained to my continued surprise. "I hadn't expected you to drop any other romantic prospects for my sake. That sounds terribly impractical, considering the demands of our separate vocations."

"I . . . see your point." I nodded a bit cautiously. I was still somewhat jarred by the unexpected direction of the discussion, but she was certainly correct that the nature of each of our careers individually posed an inevitable problem for anyone hoping to stay in regular contact with a romantic partner, let alone the combination of the two. We'd already had some rare luck in meeting again so soon, and it wasn't likely to hold up forever.

"Honestly, it sounds like it would put me under a great deal of unnecessary pressure to be the only woman in your life," she continued. "There might come a time when you have to spend _years_ turning down other opportunities because you imagine that it will all be worth it when I get back. And then it becomes my job to live up to the idealized expectations you built up over all that time? I'd rather not."

My eyes widened. "I understand _completely_." I'm not sure if she realized, at the time, what a perfect parallel she'd managed to draw between her own concerns and the issue of living up to expectations that I faced on a regular basis—but the result was that I suddenly felt even more confident in our suitability as a match than I already had been, not to mention willing to accommodate whatever unconventional preferences she had.

"You aren't just saying that?" she asked. "You understand that I do really mean that I'd love for you to see other women?"

I seized her by the shoulders and affected a grave expression. "Amberley. If it makes you happy, I will do my utmost to bed every woman I ever meet. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it."

My attempt at maintaining a falsely serious tone didn't last for long, and I was already laughing at my own ridiculous joke almost before I finished the last sentence. Fortunately, she reacted the same way. The broken tension of the conversation made it all seem much more amusing than such a frivolous comment rightly should have, and soon we were both lying down on the bed in fits of giggles, which also had the effect of jostling the hat that I was still wearing to an odd angle.

"I mean," she eventually managed to get out, "I should think maybe one or two at a time would be enough, but if you have such lofty ambitions, far be it from me to stop you."

"So," I responded pensively, my thoughts finally returning to the reality of the matter at hand, "you might have other partners as well, when I'm not there?"

"I should hope so, yes. That wouldn't be a problem for you, would it?"

I frowned, finding that momentarily bringing to mind the image of Amberley with another man elicited some emotional reaction I'd rather avoid. "Well, I might not want to _hear_ about it. But it does sound fair, considering."

"It does, doesn't it?" She smiled. "So I won't tell you about it, then, unless you decide to ask. If that's what you'd prefer."

"Alright. I'll try not to let it bother me as long as you'll assist by keeping the details between you and the other lucky men in your life."

"Well, I can't promise that _exactly_ , since they might not all be men," she replied with a raised eyebrow and an alluring smirk.

"Amberley," I exclaimed, somewhat—but not unpleasantly—surprised for the third or fourth time that evening, "you're attracted to women?"

"Well, yes. I thought that might be obvious. It doesn't make you feel differently about any of this, does it?"

"No, I—it's just that I happen to have been with a few men myself."

I was a bit nervous about how she might react, but apparently needlessly so. A smile lit up her face as she responded, "There's something else we have in common, then." And I wondered if some subconscious sense of that commonality could have been part of what drew me to her in the first place—if we had forged the instant connection that we did because, on some level, we were the same.

I lifted my hand to caress her face. "I was telling the truth earlier, you know. There _is_ nothing between me and Regina. And you're much more my type than she is anyway."

"You don't have to say that," she replied, although the blush creeping into her cheeks made me suspect that she appreciated it.

"I know. I want to."

I took the excellent opportunity to kiss her, running my hand through her lustrous hair. She wrapped a leg around my waist and shifted our bodies into an arrangement with her on top, running her fingers through my hair in turn before snatching my hat from its precarious position.

"Be careful with that," I cautioned her.

"I will be, don't worry," she reassured me as she placed it atop her own head in what turned out to be quite the fitting look. "There. I'm the commissar now, so I'll be giving the orders. Where's my salute, trooper?"

"Technically, you don't have to salute a commissar," I told her. "People often do, to be polite, but since we're—"

"Be polite, then."

"Sir." I snapped my hand to my forehead, bringing an expression of delight to her face. I felt the impact of the salute was a bit lessened by the fact that I was lying on my back—but on the other hand, there was certainly one part of me that was standing at attention by that point, so maybe her reaction had a bit more to do with that. 

"Perfect. Give me the sash too, and take everything else off."

"Right away, sir."

She moved to free me, and I followed her orders to the letter as quickly as I possibly could. I have to say she struck me as looking a lot better in the cap and sash than I did, although I'm sure it also helped that by then they were all she was wearing.

"Awaiting further orders," I said eagerly once I was standing naked in front of her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she parted her legs and beckoned me closer with a smile. "On your knees."

It wasn't an ideal position, with the bed being a bit lower to the ground than I would have liked—even kneeling down, I was tall enough that I needed to hunch over a bit to give her what she wanted. But it was worth all the discomfort in the world to taste her and feel her body trembling at the touch of my tongue, my hands on the appropriated symbol of authority around her waist.

She kept me there, her legs practically pinning me in place, until she was satisfied several times over. By the time she finally pulled me up onto the bed with her, I felt like the anticipation was going to kill me—but of course, it really only made the resulting experience that much sweeter.

All in all, that night we spent together was much more successful than I could possibly have imagined at its outset. In all my prior experience, I had grown to dread any manner of direct confrontation about the terms of a romantic entanglement—especially if it began with a question about another woman. I hadn't even dreamed that having such a discussion with Amberley would lead to my being offered _more_ freedom, but the more I thought about it, the more I was warming to the idea.

And I can now report with the benefit of hindsight that it was an excellent decision. There were many times over the years when a connection I was able to form with someone else brought me some much-needed comfort, or simply a pleasant evening, and I was glad to have the opportunity—I expect that Amberley would express similar sentiments. Although I have to say that as much I enjoyed the company of the variety of other partners that Amberley's approval left me free to seek out, I also never quite felt the same way about anyone else as I did about her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! [I also drew a cute picture of these two recently that you might enjoy.](https://the-unsleeping-bi.tumblr.com/post/643293265557340160/continuing-to-work-on-improving-my-art-with) I'm not much of an artist yet, but my desire to constantly create Ciaphas Cain content is inspiring me to keep working on improving!


End file.
